


words unsaid

by starblessed



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 06:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12858534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starblessed/pseuds/starblessed
Summary: There's a lot of stuff that Chuck doesn't say. It's difficult to put Ron Speirs into words.





	words unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> Of course, the characters in this fic are based off of their fictional portrayals from the miniseries Band of Brothers, and I mean no disrespect to the real-life veterans!
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [renelemaires](http://renelemaires.tumblr.com/)!

It’s midnight, and the stars are blinking in the sky like Christmas lights. It’s not Christmas yet, nor even close – the air is still warm enough for Chuck to lie in the back of his pickup in a t-shirt, only a hint of chill prickling the sensitive flesh of his arms – but the atmosphere is peaceful enough that he’s reminded of a quiet night spent in front of the fireplace with a tree blinking over his shoulder.

A nudge jolts his attention away from the sky. He turns to find Ron holding his cigarette out. The glowing tip is not quite bright enough to shine in his dark eyes, but Chuck catches a hint of its reflection inside of inky pools. It makes Ron look possessed.

“Last one,” Ron informs him as Chuck takes a long drag. “I expect you’ll buy me more after this.”

Chuck exhales the smoke up towards the sky, in the direction of the breeze, and allows it to be carried away. “You’re an asshole,” he informs Ron matter-of-factly. His friend’s lips quirk up as if he’s just taken a compliment. (And it’s _that_ smirk, that _awful_ smirk, that makes Grant weak.)

“Yeah. I am.”

“You don’t have to sound so proud of it.”

“What’s not to be proud of?”

Ron plucks the cigarette from between Chuck’s fingers and raises it to his mouth. Perfect lips purse as he inhales, his chest rising with it. His eyes flutter shut. Chuck is seized with the inexplicable, impossible urge to brush his fingers over the stubbled crest of his jaw.

 _God, he’s beautiful,_ he thinks to himself. He’s overwhelming. _He’s unbelievable._ He can’t understand him. _I hate him._ He might be falling in love.

“Yeah,” he says, as if agreeing with himself. He’s not sure who he’s talking to, really, but Ron looks over at him with his eyebrows raised. He wants to smirk, Chuck can see that, but he’s holding himself back. Out of what, pity?

The idea of Ron putting him churns his stomach more than Ron mocking him. Chuck forces a confident light back in his eyes, and bares his teeth. “You are an asshole.”

That makes Ron laugh – full, hearty, and brimming with so much that Chuck feels like he’s drowning. Why doesn’t Ron laugh more? Why doesn’t he laugh all the goddamn time? God, his laugh is everything.

“Have you considered what that makes you?” Ron asks, and Chuck’s lips press in a him line. Just the asshole that’s crazy about you.

“A decent human being,” he retorts, and steals the cigarette back. It’s almost burned down now; ash flies off the glowing end and lands on Ron’s pant leg. He lets out a small displeased noise and blows on it. The ashes fly off into the wind.

Chuck takes the final drag as the ashes scatter away. They fly up to the night sky, away from the car, away from the two men with ambition and desperation in their blood. For a brief second, they soar up towards the stars.

Then they flutter back to the cool grass – returned to earth once more in disgrace.

 _Ironic,_ Chuck thinks, and stubs out the last of the cigarette on the back of his truck. He delivers the butt to Ron’s open hands. What hell do with it, Chuck doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to wonder.

“Yeah,” he says again. This time, he isn’t agreeing to anything at all.


End file.
